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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379683">The Sound of Your Laughter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee'>Banashee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>65 Random Prompts [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mission Fic, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:01:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clint finds himself having an argument with a squirrel, Phil is way more amused than he usually lets on while on the clock and the two of them are so very much in love, it's physically painful for everyone around them to watch.<br/>Maybe they'll finally get their shit together. </p><p>*+~</p><p>"(...)<br/>Clint is grinning at his own joke and carefully shifts - his legs are starting to fall asleep and he needs to be able to move, even after spending most of the day high up in a tree. Just in case. <br/>Over the comm, he can hear Phil’s breath huff a little in what would have been a small laugh from most people.<br/>“Indeed. Thank you for your consideration, Agent.” <br/>Bland and dry as always, and yet Clint can see right through it. He’s still grinning when he shrugs even though Phil doesn’t have a view of him. He knows he’ll know. It’s how they work. <br/>(...)"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton &amp; Phil Coulson, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>65 Random Prompts [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Sound of Your Laughter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another prompt list thingy with my dear friend @banana_ink.<br/>Full prompt list can be found here:<br/>https://banashee.tumblr.com/post/190342596571/65-random-writing-prompts</p><p>I just wanted to write something fluffy to break up the heavy flow of my "Bad Things Happen Bingo" so I wrote this ridiculous thing.</p><p>Rated Mature for use of foul language and the fact that Clint is a sniper currently on the job. Nothing graphic though.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>The Sound of Your Laughter</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The comm in Clint’s ear crackles to life with a faint but familiar sound, shortly followed by his handlers voice. It is as deadpan as always, but he just <em> knows </em> what Phil Coulson sounds like when he’s amused, even while on the clock and in full Competent Badass Mode. </p><p> </p><p>“Barton, are you humming Queen right now?”</p><p>“Sure am.” Clint says easily, interrupting himself. He has indeed spent the last thirty minutes humming ‘<em> I want to break free </em>’ under his breath while waiting for his target to show up. It’s been hours, and the guy they’re after is - somewhere. Not here, apparently. It happens sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>“At least it’s not ‘<em> Another one bites the dust </em>.’ That would be pretty inappropriate given my position, Sir.’</p><p>Clint is grinning at his own joke and carefully shifts - his legs are starting to fall asleep and he needs to be able to move, even after spending most of the day high up in a tree. Just in case. </p><p>Over the comm, he can hear Phil’s breath huff a little in what would have been a small laugh from most people.</p><p>“Indeed. Thank you for your consideration, Agent.” </p><p>Bland and dry as always, and yet Clint can see right through it. He’s still grinning when he shrugs even though Phil doesn’t have a view of him. He knows he’ll know. It’s how they work. </p><p> </p><p>“Gotta focus on something. Unless you wanna chat with me, Sir.”</p><p>“Do I want to, though?”</p><p>“Wow, that’s harsh.”</p><p>“You’ll live. Any movement down there?” Phil asks then, refocusing their conversation back on the job.</p><p>“No, nothing. Johnson is taking his sweet ass time.” Clint lets out a breath - not quite a sigh because that’s unprofessional, but it’s a close thing.</p><p>“He might show up later. Let me know if anything changes.”</p><p>“Will do.” </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Clint is hit in the head from above.</p><p>“Ouch! What the fuck?”</p><p>It hurts, but he’s not injured, as far as he can tell. Most of all, he is still upright and confused - Clint remains suspicious. Just a second after the curse leaves his mouth, Phil is in his ear, concerned.</p><p>“Are you alright? What’s happening?”</p><p>“Something just hit me in the head, but I can’t see anyone. Must have been small, since I don’t know what it is.” </p><p>Clint lets his eyes drift around himself, but there is no one around as far as he can tell. Besides, if this was an enemy attack, he’d be long dead or at least unconscious. He says as much, and Phil hums in agreement, but it is fairly obvious that he still worries about an attack. </p><p>The chances of it happening are always in the back of their minds, even though it shouldn’t be as likely on this particular mission. </p><p>Before he can say anything else, Clint is met with the very same sensation of a small object hitting him - no, falling onto him from above. He narrows his eyes and looks upwards.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of an enemy, he meets the dark eyes of a squirrel that is seated on a tree branch higher up than Clint. It is clutching a nut in it’s little paws and then, Clint could swear it looks him dead in the eye, the squirrel drops it right in top of his head, fluffy tail swinging back and forth.</p><p>A startled laugh escapes him, while the squirrel keeps nibbling as if nothing had happened. The little guy has the audacity to look completely innocent and adorable in the process, and Clint points a scolding finger ar it.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> You </em>. Stop throwing your nuts at me.”</p><p>A beat of silence over the comms stretches out before Phil finally answers. He sounds like he’s trying very hard to stop himself from laughing tho. Clint just knows that the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes will deepen and if no one else is around to see, there might even be a small smile. It’s his favourite expression on Phil, although he makes an effort not to think about that too much. </p><p>“I really hope you have encountered a rodent, Agent Barton. Otherwise, I have questions.”</p><p>Clint chokes on air when he bursts out laughing, quickly stifling it as to not attract any attention to himself. Damn Phil Coulson and his ability to do <em> things </em> to him without even trying.</p><p>“And here they say Agent Coulson doesn’t have a sense of humor.” he shoots back, smiling widely but then another nut hits him, effectively cutting him off.</p><p>“Okay, ow. Listen buddy.” he turns back on the squirrel that still watches him as if to say “What the hell are you doing in my house?!”</p><p>“I get it, I’m in your space. Not cool. Believe me, I understand. But I’m kinda working here, so can you not? Ow! Fucking Bastard.”</p><p> </p><p>And honest to god, Phil does laugh this time. On the clock, on comms. It must be Christmas or something.</p><p>“You know Barton, I’m not entirely sure if I feel sorry for whoever the poor Agent reviewing this footage will be, or if I’d like to be a fly on the wall when they listen to it.”</p><p>“I know I’d be <em> delighted </em> if that was my job.” </p><p>Clint shrugs, and barely moves out of the way when the next nut falls - he’s fairly sure that this is how his day will continue until he can make his shot. It’s ridiculous and he’ll probably need and ice pack for his head after, but he’ll prefer a squirrel defending it’s tree any day over people shooting at him unexpectedly. </p><p> </p><p>Their conversation dies down after a little while, and Clint goes back to quietly humming under his breath. Then, he catches movement on floor level.</p><p>He stops humming immediately and his tone of voice changes to a calm and neutral level. </p><p>“Sir, there is movement.” and a beat later, when he is in position with an arrow nocked and his bow string pulled tight he adds,</p><p>“Target acquired. Do I have permission to shoot?”</p><p>“Permission granted.” The positive answer comes a fraction of a second later, and Clint evens out his breathing.</p><p>His arrow flies, and naturally, it finds it target without any trouble. The man drops, never realizing what even happened.</p><p> </p><p>When Clint and Phil meet up on ground level just a few minutes later, they make their way back to the nondescript car. </p><p>Their day ends with them eating take out on a safehouse couch, crammed together in the small space of a  safe house but it is comfortable. It is familiar, and by now it is just as much part of their mission routine as bickering and flirting over the comms like an old married couple.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe, one day, they’ll get their shit together. </p><p>Maybe, one day, one of them will actually ask the other out for dinner as a proper date. </p><p>But for now, they eat lukewarm chinese food and are simply happy to be able to spend their off-time together.</p><p>If they just so happen to fall asleep on the couch, heads pillowed against each other and limbs entangled when they wake up in the middle of the night because neither of them is 20 anymore and safehouse sofas tend to wreck their backs, well. </p><p>It’s not like either wants to complain, really. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*+~</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Prompt No. 35 - “Ouch.”</b>
</p><p> </p>
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